Start the Year With a Bang
by JantoJones
Summary: It's almost midnight on New Year's Eve and Illya must try and prevent Napoleon from going out with a bang.


Napoleon Solo was beyond exhausted, yet he continued his efforts to escape from his bonds. He's been left, shackled to a chair, for almost twelve hours and had spent the entire time trying to free himself. Ordinarily, the agent wouldn't be quite so frantic, but the large clock in front of him urged him on. The hands of the **clock** steadily ticked towards midnight, and to the end of 1965. In twenty minutes, when the time reached twelve, the **red** dynamite sticks dotted around the room would also bring about the end of Napoleon Solo.

….

Illya Kuryakin glanced at his watch as he sped towards his destination. He only had twenty minutes to rescue his partner from a very nasty fate. It had taken the Russian far too long to ascertain Napoleon's whereabouts from the THRUSH who had taken him. Mr Waverly had disapproved slightly of Illya's method to gain the information, but had allowed him to proceed; keeping careful watch that the young man didn't go too far.

By the time he reached Napoleon's location there was only ten minutes left, and it only took a matter of seconds to realise that it probably wasn't enough. There were at least twelve locks holding Solo in place, the chair was screwed to the floor, and each of the ten sticks of dynamite its own detonator. The point where all the cables joined the clock was encased in a steel box, which had six locks on it.

"Hello, Tovarisch," Napoleon greeted his partner, in a ridiculously calm tone of voice.

"Good evening, Napoleon," the Russian replied, as he searched for a solution. "Soon have you out of here."

"I hope so. Daphne is never going to forgive me for not being there to kiss her at midnight."

"There isn't time to free you," Illya murmured, as though he were simply thinking out loud. "I'm going to try and unscrew the chair and drag you out."

There were four screws in all; one at each leg. Using his knife, he swiftly undid them. A quick look at the clock told him there were five minutes left. Grunting with the effort, and wincing at the sound of steel scraping against concrete, Illya dragged Napoleon from the room. Not knowing how powerful the explosion was going to be, he had to try and get as far away from it as possible in the time.

"Someone has been over-indulging over the holiday period," Kuryakin gasped.

"Well if you don't hurry, I'll be losing a lot of weight very soon."

Both men knew that the words meant nothing. They were just a means of keeping each other distracted. At the end of the corridor was the elevator. Illya was well aware of how stupid it was to use an elevator in a building which was about to explode, but he had to get to the ground floor, and quickly. It was only two floors down, and he still had three minutes.

Once on the ground floor, the Russian was grateful to see a fire exit and headed straight for it. It lead him out to an empty parking lot at the rear of the building. Pushing Napoleon against the wall, Illya leaned over him to protect him from any debris which may come their way. His expert eye had told him the explosion was more likely to burst from the front of the building, but you couldn't be too careful. Looking at his watch, Illya silently counted down the last ten seconds.

The blast, when it came, wasn't as powerful as expected; though if Napoleon had been in the room he would most certainly have died. The pyromaniac in Illya's soul was actually quite disappointed in the lacklustre explosion.

"Thank you Tovarisch," Napoleon finally said, over the noise of the fireworks now going off across the city. "We're both going to have to work on these just-in-the-nick-of-time rescues."

Illya, however, wasn't listening. He was captivated by the multi-coloured bursts which were lighting up the night sky. Every one of them caused his heart to soar with excitement, and he grinned like a child. Napoleon desperately wanted to be free of the chair, but the expression of wonder on his partners face was enough to make him wait. Everyone assumed that Illya had lost the innocence of childhood very early, but they were wrong. He'd merely packed it away and, every so often, it was allowed to show.

"Happy New Year, moy brat," Napoleon said to him softly; knowing full well that the Russian still wasn't listening.


End file.
